


Always Losers, Everywhere

by Olorisstra



Category: The Losers, The Losers (2010)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-14
Updated: 2011-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-14 18:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olorisstra/pseuds/Olorisstra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It might be interesting to confront various versions of the Losers, don’t you think?</p><p>I agree, completely, but it would be time consuming and time is not something we always have, not as much as we would like.</p><p>For this time we will settle on capturing a glimpse in an universe you aren’t already familiar with, hopefully</p><p>So, ready to steal a look?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Losers, Everywhere

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chibifukurou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibifukurou/gifts).



> This is for Chibifukurou, who asked for AU and something new and surprising encouraging the author (me) to unhearth old ideas if the author had some.
> 
> I hope you like your story and that I lived up to your request!
> 
> Thanks a much for kisahawklin for the beta she did on this, it was most appreciated!

The multiverse is vast and unending, full of realities made of everyone’s dreams and then a little more.

The players are not always the same, they are not always in the same roles, they do not always work out the same way and they never experience anything the same exact way (unless it’s a split-seconds event, then called a _deja-vu_ ).

Let's talk about The Losers.

* * *

The Losers are not always together, though they usually end up meeting each other, if only by chance.

They’re a basketball team in one reality, part of the UN in another, rebels for the Mexican army in a third, government funded zombie hunters in one apocalyptic world (and if you mention Yonkers they will spit and give you a history lesson on the futility of shock and awe weapons and the utility of geek obsession with the zombie apocalypse). There’s even a reality where they are a school clique that goes on to direct one of the leading empires in fashion journalism (Roque can use a satin sash as a garotte and let me tell you, he’s sorely tempted to use one on Jensen sometimes).

There’s a world where they all are shifters, as in animal shapeshifters, one in which they are all manners of supernatural freaks, one in which they’re all immortals, and another in which only Jensen and Cougar are in the army and alive at the same time .

They are not always male, they are not always female, they are not always a group of only men or women. Their parents, their backgrounds, their experiences change but at the end of the day they are still themselves.

There is a reality where Linwood Porteous is married to Josephine Jensen and one where Franka Clay is a proud bounty hunter and the mother of a bunch of half-Mexican children.

They are not always in a relantionship with someone else in the group and there _is_ a reality where they all meet because their kids are part of the same soccer team (even Jensen, who is an heterosexual male transvestite and loves to coo at Roque just to see the nervous tic the older man develops).

Every flavor, really.

 

It’s not always Afghanistan, it’s not always Bolivia, it’s not always Max and there are not always children involved in whatever estranges them from the legal side of society,.

Sometimes it’s Russia or Africa or the North Sea or Serbia and one time it’s in the Alps and there _are_ children involved but they are Roman soldiers, a centurion and the four men remaining from his unit, and things go on a butchering way from that point on.

Aisha is not always there, is not always as determined as she can be and is not always a bitch though there are realities in which she is a _royal_ one.

She usually kicks ass anyway. Gender, sexual preferences, person she’s in a relationship with, those things do not matter when it comes down to Aisha kicking ass.

Even in the reality where she is a pacifist protester in a world where the Sixties didn’t end she kicks ass, though it’s through her skills in organizing rallies, mass pickets and marches.

Max is not always part of their lives either, sometimes being dead long before they ever get into the picture and sometimes he’s somewhere else or dealing with someone else. There are realities where he’s never born and others where his life is quiet and normal and no one, except for his family and friends, ever hear of or from him.

A couple of times he’s their boss, once when they are a hockey team and another when they are in the same kindergarten and all hell-bent on making director Clay and their teacher Roque get white hairs before the time.

There is a reality where Max happened to be in the way of Jack Bauer and another one where the A-team tried and failed to take care of him and a third one where the A-team succeeded and a fourth one when it came down to what the Expendables could do to curb his attempts and so on and so forth.

* * *

It might be interesting to observe various versions of the Losers, don’t you think?

I agree, completely, but it would be time consuming and time is not something we always have, not as much as we would like.

For now we will settle on capturing a glimpse in a universe you aren’t already familiar with, hopefully.

So, ready to steal a look?

* * *

In this reality, the Losers are a unit in the U.S. Army, black ops that regularly stomp over the line between what’s legally acceptable and what’s not.

Their leader is Lt. Colonel Jacob “Jake” Jensen, ahotshot who has climbed his way through the ranks way faster than most think is deserved due to a combination of genius-level intelligence and ruthlessness, assisted by their SIC and tactical expert, Captain Carlos “Cougar” Alvarez, a veteran soldier with a penchant for near-absolute silence and cat-like behavior.

The rest of the team is composed of sergeants Franklin Clay, sniper, Willow Elizabeth Roque, the transpo and heavy weapons expert, plus Corporal Linwood “Pooch” Porteous, the tech of the group and only other female member.

When we zoom in on them, they’re in the middle of what we could call … _a situation_.

* * *

“You fucking fuck ups! Fucking son of bitches, I’m going to murder them! They ruined my poor C4, it’s never going to explode the same again now! Imma kill them!”

“Aaaaand we’re getting shot at. Again. Why is it no wonder to anyone that we’re getting shot again? Mmmh, maybe it could well be because there hasn’t been a mission we haven’t been shot at since that one in Utah which turned out to have been handed to us by mistake? What do you say, Cougs, you think that our utter lack of surprise at getting shot at could be because of that? Or maybe it’s Roque’s scintillating personality. I mean, if there’s a woman that can be as threatening and fear inducing as a cobra poised to strike at your groin that’s our dear, dear, dear Willow -- once you get her properly dressed in a cocktail dress and high heels. Am I right or am I right, Cougs?”

“ _Sì_.”

“I hate to be the one to remind you, _sir_ , but shouldn’t you just shut the fuck up and keep the comms free of chatter so that I can get a hold of what’s actually going on?”

“Oh don’t worry Lin, dear, we’re going to come up in a few minutes from the back exit, guns blazing and our pretty dear princess Willow’s still spitting fire about her poor darling C4 getting trampled over by those security brutes who really can’t take a joke—“

“Imma settling for killing you, Jensen, for letting them do it! Do you know how much love and preparation goes into setting charges as perfect as mine, huh? Of course you don’t since you don’t even look old enough to drink, you fucked up son of--”

“Would you all shut up so that you can run somewhere where I can cover you? Goddamn kids, all of you.”

“Awww Clay! You’re just sad because this time I was going to be the one who got to marry Willow! And it was going to be a pretty ceremony too, maybe one who would have topped the one you had in Hawaii with the fire and everything and … do you know I still have photos of that one?”

There was a growling sound from Roque’s commlink and then Jensen, sharply dressed in a fine Italian suit, burst out of the back door, preceding Cougar by just a few paces, who was dressed as a bodyguard, and Roque, in a cocktail dress with her shoes in hand, twisting the heels off them.

Once she was done, she dropped the shoes and cackled almost maniacally before pushing the little buttons that had been hidden against the sole of her shoes, activating the detonators and ignoring the hail of fire that came down on their heads.

Explosions rang from the higher floors of the office building and glass started to rain from the sky just a few seconds after Roque jumped in the back of a nondescript beige van, which sped off immediately.

“Aaaawww you left behind your shoes for them! Did you forgot you had to leave just one, Cinderella, or are you hoping that you can get two princes for the price of a single pair of Manolo Blanik?” Jensen crowed at her, half cackling from where he was sprawled under Cougar.

Roque ignored him in favor or ripping off the skin-colored latex that was hiding her scar and looking at her handiwork from the rear-window of the van.

“Look at how well my little mutilated baby is frying them up. Such a good incediary bomb, heating it all up.” She sounded maternal and almost moved by what her bomb, her ‘child’, was doing to the builinding.  
Cougar shoved himself off Jensen, who was busy brushing away a nonexistent tear from the corner of his eye.

“They grow up so well, don’t they Willow? Little bombs becoming fiery explosions,” Jensen asked in a voice full of paternal pride and friendly mock-sadness.

“Fuck you, Jensen, _sir_.” Roque spat, now that they were around the corner and the building wasn’t in sight anymore. She gathered up her dress to pick out a knife from a sheath strapped to her thigh, starting to pick dirt from under her nails with it.

Pooch shook her head and blew out a soft breath when she saw Clay, in his trademark cheap black suit, standing on the corner of the street. This was her fourth mission with the group and she was just starting to get a gist of how things worked with them.

She slowed down and Cougar opened the door in the back, just enough for Clay to get in, and then slammed it shut while she was already picking up speed.

“I swear to god, those two are worse than kids and you are no help at all Cougar, the way you let them go at it,” Clay grouched, sliding down on one of the seats and looking at Jensen (who was trying to get Roque on board with the idea of taking her and Pooch to get their nails done with a bullet motif) and Roque (who was idly insulting her superior officer and CO with the ease that came from it being a routine behavior).

Cougar shrugged and leaned a little over the front seat to get back the hat that he had left on the shotgun seat that morning. He had looked at her meaningfully, over his shoulder, heading off, hatless, to the limo that was going to take them to the office bulding that had been their target.

The implicit order, for Pooch to take care of it but not touch it unless strictly necessary for the continued unscathed existence of the hat, had been expressed through a simple look, one that had worked better than any words. It was often that way with their SIC, Pooch figured, and nodded when the man tipped the hat at her in the rear-view mirror.

* * *

They managed to get to the rendez-vous with one more firefight,just outside the airport, on which Jensen gladly recalled once they were safe and preparing to leave Japan (even though all of them had just _been through it_ ). That didn’t stop their commanding officer from waxing an almost lyrical recounting of Roque’s bitching bitched and Clay impossible shots, all under the “buddhist monk zen-like supervision” of their SIC from under the brim of his “hat of impossible awesomess”.

When they actually were on the plane and out of Japanese airspace, Pooch finally allowed herself to relax a little in her own seat, blowing out a breath and passing a hand over her regulamentary buzzcut.

Two seats away, Clay was still grumbling but the driver didn’t pay as much attention on what the man was saying. It had taken her a while to catch on but apparently grumbling was Clay's way of coping while he was on mission, as opposed to his way of coping while they were on base, which was smoking and drinking like a man with a death wish.

Not that she judged: all of them had their own ways of coping with what they did and how they went about it.

Clay had his vices, which included picking up women who were likely to blow him up or getting blown up by Roque depending on who got to whom sooner, just like Roque had her own. The sister was able to drink with the best of the base and outdrink them all too. She was a mean brawler sober, which only meant she got meaner when she'd had a few too many.

Roque gambled, pretty much on anything and everything, and one of the big truths of their unit world was that, if there was a bet going around, it had either been started by Sergeant Roque or she had something riding on it. Roque had also a fascination for anything that was stainless steel and pointy, or prone to loudly and efficiently go boom at any given time, which included alcohol bottles to turn into molotovs and her own personal collection of explosive devices.

Jensen dealt with the stress of being the group leader by being a loud motor-mouth and keeping photo evidence of everything, from them looking bored on a long flight to Chechnya to all the times Clay and Roque had accidentally ended up married while on mission or drunk. He also had a pretty impressive collection of video games and two or three laptops that were completely devoted to them and one laptop that was only for news, photos, and videos of the niece he had adopted as his own daughter.

The girl, Emily, was ten years old and she lived on the base with them, in the care of the army babysitter services when they were on mission and frequenting the local school for army brats. She was the star in her uncle's eyes.

Cougar was zen-like while they were on mission but he had disturbingly cat-like behaviors once they got back to base and was also a devastating womanizer, able to pick up four women during the course of the same evening before crawling back in the room he and Jensen shared. She had seen the room in passing, once or twice, and it had a single king-size bed but Pooch had always minded her own affairs and she wasn’t about to change now.

It wasn’t as if the army would have kicked up a fuss, what with it being an equal-opportunity-to-work-and-die-for-your-country establishment, but it still was frowned upon to sleep with your direct superior officer.

Pooch's own way to cope included stalking Jolene through satellite video feeds and playing around with engines and computers. She liked manual work, stripping down a machine to its bare parts and then reworking it into something better just for the pleasure of it.

There was something relaxing about sitting in the midst of greased up engine parts, with the radio playing softly in the background and oil on her skin and under the fingernails. Just turning the pieces in her hands while she figured out how she was going to get them to work the way her mind had envisioned was enough for Pooch to put her mind at ease and unwind from the stress her work.

To each her own.

Jolene had never really understood it, Pooch's method of coping, even though she and Pooch had been friends since the crib and lovers since high school. She'd also never understood the drive that pushed Pooch into signing up for special forces after she got out of army engineering school.

It was something they both knew wasn’t worth discussing, because those discussions always ended up nowhere, and that they had both accepted that early on in their relationship, when Pooch had decided what she was going to do and Jolene had decided to go on to become a Judge Advocate for the army section of JAG. Their choices were their own and they respected each other just fine, simply accepting that things were just going to be that way.

Pooch craved being alone in their garage just like Jolene craved shopping when she was done with a difficult process or a difficult witness testimony. So she took Jolene out shopping and Jolene kept out of the garage and they were golden.

Jolene.

Pooch missed her so much that it wasn’t even funny. Jensen had promised the whole team leave after this mission and Pooch was kind of holding her breath, waiting to see if it was true, though Jensen usually came through with his promises.

Pooch suspected it was because of her CO's uncanny ability to talk in circles so well that no one noticed they were being conned into doing Jensen's will, especially if Jensen had started yapping his mouth by agreeing with them.

Or maybe it was their SIC, who knew?

Pooch had heard rumors, when she had fished in the rumor mill for info on the team she had been requested for, about their SIC's cat-like devotion to the CO of the Losers but she had thought they had been inflated, like most rumors were. It had been quite the little shock, to discover that the rumors downplayed the level of shit Cougar Alvarez did for Jake Jensen, even going as far as to dirtying his sacred and untouchable hat to rescue the man from a ravine after disemboweling the mercenary who'd pushed him in it.

Alvarez was kind of a mute, though the man had such an expressive face that words actually _felt_ superfluous around him. The man was also skirting the territory of “cat-like” far more than necessary to earn a nickname like Cougar. Never before had Pooch met a human being capable of fitting in tight spaces one moment and sprawling gloriously like a boneless being the next, not tomention the fact that the SIC had some kind of obsession with milk, whether it was straight from the jug or mixed in his drinks it didn’t matter. And he was like a cat in heat with the ladies, though in the end he always crawled back to Jensen's room or lying down on the couch with his head on Jensen's legs, hat propped down on his face while their CO played Call of Duty with the determination and the screams of a possessed man.

Jensen did mind his voice, the volume at least, around any of them but his already over-worked motor-mouth seemed to flare up whenever the man was around, and Cougar didn’t seemed to mind a bit. It even looked, though Pooch wasn’t sure if that one was real or just a far-fetched theory of her stupid brain, as if hearing Jensen's chatter was something calming.  
Cougar was also fiercely protective of Jensen, kind of bossing him around in a not-so-subtle but functional way. Even though she had been with the team for just a couple of months, it seemed a far longer time at that. There had been enough downtime between mission number two and number four for Pooch to start noticing the little routines that were already present and those that were being tailored to include her.

She appreciated the fact that they were subtly welcoming by simply changing their own activities as if it was natural. It was an appreciated change of pace, not having to put up with dicks who switched her coffee to decaf just because they could. It wasn’t as if she liked to have her wrenches, or her own heavy pack, fall on their feet but accidents happened when she didn’t had coffee to go on. She was sure that all her teammates would have agreed with her, since they were all more or less addicted to the stuff.

Anyway, back to the point. Cougar being protective of Jensen wasn’t limited to missions. It extended to little things, like making sure that their CO always made it back to the house they shared on base or taking care of his meals (apparently Jensen couldn’t cook to save his life and he was never allowed in the kitchen except for fridge raids or eating).

Cougar took care of Jensen in the everyday life as much as he did on mission, making sure that the man always came back in a whole, if battered, piece.

He was also one of the few persons able to make sense of Jensen most convoluted schemes and plans without the help of flow charts and long detailed explanations, at least apparently. Pooch had seen Jensen drawing in the mud and Cougar taking a plan out of the swirls (which kind of resembled a military map but not enough for Pooch for make head or tails of it).

He also vetted out the women that Jensen showed interest in, doing some sort of selection and sweeping process after which he ended up with the women deemed unfit and Jensen left with the one that had been Cougar-approved, if there even was one which -- happened quite rarely.

Pooch instinctively dreaded the day Jensen found a woman who wanted, and was able, to put up with the shit their CO pulled routinely. Cats weren’t big on sexual fidelty but they sure as hell hated to share their owners.

It was kind of a co-dependent relationship, was what it boiled down to in Pooch mind, as much as Clay and Roque’s was too, in their own ways.

Roque and Clay didn’t exactly _care_ for each other in all the little ways that Jensen and Cougar did but they definitely did care for each other's well being.

Roque tried to make sure that the craziest of Clay's women didn’t even come near to hurting the man, and always had, according to Jensen. It was this kind of crazy race between Roque and the various nutsos to see who was going to take out whom before Clay noticed, which usually was quite difficult considering that the sergeant lived on a whole another planet when he suffered from a hangover.

Pooch herself had actually assisted (but not intervened in, because she valued her skin thank you very much) at a knife fight between Roque and another woman, who had ended up booted out of the door with a large knife wound in the shoulder and the imprint of Roque’s boot on her ass, all while Clay chugged coffee not even six feet to the left.

The sniper even asked where his “date” had ended up, once he was done with the coffee and the aspirin. Roque had just shrugged and gone back to polishing her knives as if nothing had happened. Pooch had looked at Cougar, hoping to find some semblance of an answer, but the Mexican had shrugged too and gone back to assembling a breakfast tray for Jensen, who was still sleeping.

It didn’t end there, obviously. There was the whole question of the marriages, which Pooch wouldn’t have believed until Jensen, rather proudly at that, showed her his collection of photos and keepsakes from the various ceremonies.

It went like that.

Whenever the Losers went out on a mission, there was a statistical probability of seventy-five point four percent that the two sergeants were going to get back married in some fashion or another. Apparently, between the missions and a couple of Vegas weddings while completely wasted and under false identitites, the two had been married in fifteen different countries, either by religious or civil rite.

Both denied it being intentional and Roque was known for bitching her way through the ceremonies, while Clay grumbled in concert with her, but they still ended up married more often than not. It wasn’t clear if they ever consummated anything but no one dared to bet on it, in fear of Roque's retaliation.

They were also pretty much joined at the hip, Roque and Clay, to the point where they knew each other like the backs of their hands. According to Jensen, Roque had never taken anyone to her hometown except for Clay and Roque was the only one who had ever been admitted to Clay's house.

The two of them skirted the line between a full-blown relationship and some kind of epic friends with benefits relationship in ways that not even Cougar and Jensen dared to, even with all their little couple-ish rituals.

That was not to say that the four weren’t integral to each other's lives. It was just that those two divisions, Jensen and Cougar on one side and Roque and Clay on the other, were the most glaring ones. Actually, the four of them were, in Pooch's eyes at least, fundamental to each other in the way family members are supposed to be.

Cougar and Clay understood each other on a level that their respective counterparts couldn’t achieve and Pooch had found them drinking beers on the roof a couple of times. Not talking, just sitting there in silence and drinking, perfectly at ease with each other.

Clay also acted as some sort of counterpoint to Jensen's cheerful enthusiasm and usually made a point to keep everyone else in check even where there was no need to. He was father-like to their CO, from time to time, and his experience, far greater than every other member of the team, also gave him precious insights on what they could do, though he was still prone to lose sight of the primary objective from time to time.

Cougar was Roque's snark buddy, though in the SIC's case the snark was conveyed in an mostly silent manner, and they had some sort of eye communication thing going on where Roque would mutter and Cougar would look and they would smile identical bastard-like smiles that were usually a prelude to some poor fucker getting completely swindled.

Jensen and Roque bounced off each other, and with each other when they got really smashed. They had their banter down pat, to the point where, on their third mission together, Pooch had distinctively heard the two of them bantering in softvoices while being deeply _asleep_. She even checked to see if they'd woken up but they were sleeping, no doubt about that, and keeping about a semi-coherent banter between the two of them.

Pooch chuckled softly at the memory, the vibrations of the airplane covering the sound.

She, too, was starting to integrate with them.

Clay and her, they didn’t have much in common, but the sergeant was actually a bit fond of old cars, to the point where he had a project in the works, since forever, according to him. He apparently wanted to restore his father's old black Chevy Impala to new glory. It was a husk of what it used to be, according to the man, and Roque was in on it, too, what with cars and transpo being part of her specialty.

Both of them had started to hint about Pooch helping them with it, just the three of them, if not on the motor itself at least on the electrical system, which was more of Pooch's area of expertise anyway. A Chevy Impala was a wet dream in Pooch's book and she had started giving some serious thought to the offer.

She and Jensen had bonded since day one, over a shared love for GTA and for anything Star Wars or Star Trek. Pooch was delighted to find out that Jensen was trying to schedule at least half of the team's leave in time to be free for ComiCon and the San Diego ComicCon. She was already figuring out how to cajole Jolene in coming with them.

She and Cougar weren’t as close as she and Jensen were but they did connect on some kind of level.

He would usually come down to the garage to clean his rifle while she was working on transmission circuits or hacking her way into schematics and secret servers that shouldn’t have been infiltrated (but it wasn’t as if she was going to give a fuck about _shouldn’ts_ once Jensen told her that he was going to have her back no matter what she hacked).

There was something in just being there and knowing that he was there too that made her feel safe and protected. She wasn’t sure if he had started to do it on his own or because Jensen had asked him to but she appreciated the physical reminder that she wasn't alone, even if he was utterly silent.

She was beginning to fit in with all of them, to the point where Jolene asked her if her teammates would be coming to their house for leave and if Pooch wanted her to include a little something for the other Losers in her next care package.

Care packages were an in-joke between the two of them, dating back to when Pooch had been sent away for her first tour of duty. Jolene had kissed her hard and promised to send her a few if Pooch were to send some of her own once Jolene started to get long, drawn-out cases out of DC.

Pooch had taken it jokingly but Jolene hadn’t meant for it to be a joke, because she had kept her word and started sending them as soon as she was able to put together whatever she thought her girlfriend was going to need.

From then on, care packages had become as much a part of their way of communicating as emails and phone calls.

Pooch wrote back, telling her to just go with her instinct and send anything because the guys and Roque were going to appreciate the thought on its own. Emily too, and she was sure going to like Pooch and Jolene's house in DC too if Jensen agreed to spend his leave with them.

It wasn’t as if the little girl wasn’t going to come with them. When on leave Jensen didn’t move a foot without her and Cougar at his side.

In the beginning Pooch had been appalled at the thought of Emily living with the kind of people her teammates were, what with the drinking and taking crazy women home and knife fighting and insult-ridden bantering. It just wasn’t the right environment for a kid to grow up in, you know?

That was until she met the little one herself and discovered that she had everyone wrapped around her little finger and was quite aware of it. Apparently, Emily fancied herself the woman of the house and took pride in helping the adults out and keeping them in check, those being Emily's words and not Pooch's.

She was the one who had convinced Roque to help her retrieve a water jug and put it up in a corner of the kitchen as the “ _reserve money jar_.”

She had then, according to Clay's recounting of the events, sat down with all of them and worked out a price for everything from women doing "strange things" outside the bedroom to insults to inappropriate kissing to drunken singing to fighting of any kind. The list counted as the house rules too, and Emily took great care in taking the money personally to put them in the jar, even going as far as taking them from their wallets of her own volition.

The money was for when they were out on mission, or whenever there was a real emergency, so that Emily always had a personal reserve fund should she need it. Quite a clever idea, given that the kid had come up with it when she was eight and the jug always held a rather impressive quantity of money.

She was also the mascot of the team and the one they all doted upon. Clay could never really say no to the combination of blue eyes, red hair and freckled face and Roque wasn’t much better, given that she had decided she was going to help Emily learn how to handle “boys and shit like that” according to the sergeant's words. Jensen thought the world of his niece and Cougar acted like an uncle around her, though they were all aunts and uncles to Emily.

Pooch herself, having always had a soft spot for kids, had been an easy victim and ended up wrapped around the little girl's finger in the moment Emily had squealed and hugged her, calling her “aunt Lin” because apparently, she and Jensen shared not only the eyes and the grin but the love for shortening her first name, too.

It was a strange feeling, the one that washed over Pooch while she felt the tiredness starting to creep up on her, but not one she was completely unfamiliar with.

Thinking about how much she missed Jolene and how she was going to love Emily and how much shit Pooch was going to end up catching for not presenting her team to Jolene sooner wasn’t all that much different from thinking about getting back on base in the house Pooch shared with the other Losers and the little girl herself.

Either way, she thought sleepily, she was going to get back home.

**Author's Note:**

> So, that's more of a character piece than an action one, as you can have noted.
> 
> I initially started by writing a Losers / Star Wars crossover that was becoming a thing of epic, topping at over 18k when my word decided to corrupt the file when I was nearing the deadline. After out-bitching the Losers themselves and raving at the skys and yanking a few saints down for good measure I set down and decided to work on something completely new.
> 
> I looked through the block where I sign my various ideas and I came across one that I had really liked but had never gotten down to write.
> 
>  _What if the Losers where still the Losers but their places were swapped, maybe some genders too?_
> 
> I really liked the idea and I was kinda giddy about transforming Roque and Pooch instead of Cougar and Jensen (who usually gets it when it comes down to gender-swapping) but still maintaining the characters IC (In Character).
> 
> I also wanted to try my hand at Pooch POV so that I could get an "outside" look at the other members of the team while still "being" a part of it.
> 
> I decided to sacrifice sleep on the altar of giving Chibifukurou a nice, pretty fic for her to (hopefully) like and laugh about and forgone it for the last few nights (because the best ideas and the best Jensen insanity surfaces when my brain is overworking on coffee and running on fumes, at least judging by past reactions to my writing).
> 
> Concrit is always appreciated and I really hope that Chibifukurou, principally since it's for her, and the other people in the fandom, because you're all awesome, will appreciate what I've written :)
> 
> It's been fun, let's do it again when I'm not trying to get myself into an adrenaline crash from too much caffeine :D


End file.
